Aliens. That's right. I said it. I know - it sounds stupid to me also. I'm a psychologist (sort of), so you'd think I'd be able to reason my way out of this mess. Except the reality is that I've been abducted to become their breeder, and it doesn't take an advanced degree to recognize this is all sorts of jacked up. But I digress. Apparently, these aliens are on the brink of extinction and need me and my fellow captives to repopulate. Yay us. I guess it's time to figure out an escape plan before they knock me up. I'll be back later. Hopefully.

I’ve been abducted. Twice. My situation with this new group of aliens has gone from bad to worse. I was with a bunch of elf-like aliens who had unparalleled technology, but now I’m in the midst of a group of primitive gargoyle aliens running around in loincloths. Which doesn’t hide much, let me tell you. There’s one gargoyle in particular who watches my every move, but what’s under his loincloth scares me more than his beastly appearance. To be sure we’re worthy to breed with, the savages have us each perform a rite of passage. And by that I mean a test of survival.

I thought getting a linguistics degree would land me a decent job, not get me shipped off to an alien planet ruled by barbarian warlords with tails. But that’s exactly what happens when my own government kidnaps me, along with a bunch of other women, and drops us on a brutal desert planet in the name of research. But the mission goes wrong. Because of course it does. 

Anna Carven presents books one through four in the Dark Planet Warriors series.

As the first humans allowed in Suevan space, there’s a lot riding on my all-woman team. Earth desperately needs their tech, and I’m determined to prove we can negotiate the price. Without their planetary defense systems, Earth is a sitting duck, ripe for invasion. Except the Suevan culture is nothing like ours. When I take part in what I think is a welcoming ceremony, I leave with more than I bargained for: a husband. A mate. Apparently, we’re there to marry them as payment—something the top brass on Earth doesn’t bother denying. Fantastic.